


Patchwork

by starlithorizons



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Eating Disorders, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Post-Squip, Slow Burn, cw for:
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-14 10:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11781558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlithorizons/pseuds/starlithorizons
Summary: He had been hiding in the shade for ages, but when he looked up into that expression, it was as if he stepped into the sun again. His eyes, dark and rich, glittered in the sunlight, though they were half hidden behind the glare of round glasses and locks of messy brown hair. After a beat of tension, the excitement quickly seeped into his features again, and the face-splitting grin grew back across his features.Jeremy had never seen someone sobrightbefore.-A lifetime of buildup was easy. Ripping it all apart proved to be somehow easier.Putting it back together was the hard part.A journey through twelve years of friendship.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> what is UP I've had this circulating for a while now and wanted to finally put it down. so. here we go
> 
> it's a slow start! most of the content warning tags won't come into play until later. I hope that you enjoy anyway!

The shrill tones of chiptunes filled the still morning air so suddenly that it felt as though they had sliced through it physically.

From where he rested tangled in his sheets, Jeremy grunted, shifting and struggling to process what was happening. He cracked his eyes open and stared at the clock on his nightstand, eyes narrowing again in confusion. It was at least twenty minutes before he usually woke up. Why was his alarm so early?

The song continued for another few bars before the realization hit him that he hadn’t been greeted with the buzzing of his alarm. It was his ringtone - a specific one. His hand snapped out immediately upon the revelation, accepting the call and bringing the phone to his face before it could defer the caller to voicemail.

“Mmhm?” he hummed drowsily, head already settling on his pillow again.

“Gooood morning, Sleeping Beauty,” came Michael’s greeting, to be expected. “Sleep well?”

Jeremy could only manage another grunt as he rubbed his eyes and stretched his back in a slow arc. “Why are you calling me,” he said instead of answering the nicety. 

He was met with a low whistle in return. “You don’t even sound  _ excited _ ,” Michael replied, and his pout was so exaggerated Jeremy could see it in his mind’s eye with ease. “Wouldn’t you love for me to wake you up like this every morning?”

Maybe he wouldn’t mind hearing Michael’s voice first thing every morning, but he- Wait. No. Hang on.

Jeremy opened his eyes to stare at the wall, physically forcing his train of thought back onto the correct tracks. Where was he supposed to be headed? Right, right. Playful disdain. “If it meant you’d wake me up twenty minutes earlier every day, I’d sooner block your number,” he replied, the sleepy drawl still dragging his words together, masking whatever lingering embarrassment might have crept in otherwise.

Michael gasped dramatically. “Oh, you are so  _ cold! _ ” He sounded scandalized, and Jeremy’s lips curled into a smile, despite himself.

“As ice. Now, seriously, dude, whyyyy are you calling me.”

“Because if you get any more beauty sleep you’re gonna be prettier than me, and I can’t have that.”

“I’m hanging up.”

He started to pull the phone away from his ear, but even from a distance he could hear the insistent  _ “No!”  _ that came from the other end. Reluctantly (not very reluctantly), he let it fall against his face again. “I just… wanted to offer to drive you to school, today, is all.”

Jeremy blinked slowly, turning onto his back to stare blankly at his ceiling. “Offer to drive me to school,” he echoed, frowning. Michael hummed an affirmative. “Whhhhy?” he ventured, drawing out the word to highlight his confusion. Or suspicion? His confusicio- see, this was why he shouldn’t be conscious at this time of morning.

“Becaaause,” Michael replied, mocking him, “I haven’t in a while, and shockingly, I’m a kind and virtuous soul.”

But that was the thing. It wasn’t as though Michael hadn’t offered in the past - in fact, there had been a time when Michael drove him to school every Friday, just because it was easier to leave things in his car than pick them up from his own house before spending the night. But they hadn’t done that since… well. Not for a while. And Michael wasn’t one to just offer these things on a whim, usually, which meant things had to be special for some reason or ano-

“Or, I mean,” Michael continued, evidently taking his silence as impending rejection, “you could always take the bus or walk, like usual, if you’re too  _ cool  _ for that…”

Jeremy swallowed and ignored the violent twist in his stomach at the words. “No! No, I just- sorry, dude, you know my brain takes, like, five minutes to start working,” he muttered, rubbing one of his eyes with the heel of his palm. “I’d be happy to ride with you, of course. I was just trying to figure out if I was forgetting something. Like- Like a holiday, or… whatever. I dunno.” He cringed a little at his stammer.

“Nah, nothing like that. I’ll see you in thirty?”

“Yeah. Thanks, man.”

“‘Course,” Michael said before ending the call.

Jeremy let out a heavy sigh, his arm flopping uselessly beside him, phone held over the edge of his bed precariously. Thirty minutes? He usually got ready in less than half that time. In fact, he didn’t think he’d taken that long to get ready since…

Oh.

First semester.

Slowly, he pushed himself to a sitting position, eyeing his laptop warily. Yes, before, he gave himself  _ copious  _ amounts of time to get ready, just in case.

Now, the mere concept made him queasy.  _ Pathetic. _

Jeremy swallowed his discomfort and slid out of bed, making his way instead to the bathroom and going through the motions. Washing his face and brushing his teeth and pushing his hair around until it was at least somewhat presentable. He resisted the urge to mull over the persistence of his acne or the twiginess of his figure or any issue remotely in that realm, because if he let himself, it could easily go far beyond the thirty minutes he’d been given.

He stalled when he went back to his bedroom, mind mulling over the anomaly of Michael reaching out to him like this again. Halfway through pulling his pants on, he double checked his calendar to make sure nothing was happening today. By all accounts, it was a normal Friday, but maybe the day of the week explained it somewhat. Not a completely new routine, but a reacclimation to an old one.

But so suddenly? He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, flipping through a few other apps to try and distract himself from the torrent of thoughts. Maybe Michael just felt bad for breaking one of his things, or he had something secretly planned, or. Or maybe something terrible had happened, and it wasn’t news he wanted to break over the phone? Oh, God, what if someone had died, or- but he did sound normal on the phone, didn’t he? Not like, panicky or anything that would mean someone was dying. Maybe… maybe he was trying to make things a little more normal aga-

The blaring of a horn shocked him from his thoughts, and he fumbled his phone with a small shriek. Struggling to fully don his pants, he waved frantically at Michael from his window, making a face at him until the noise settled down. 

“Jesus,” he muttered, though imagining Michael’s laughter from the driver’s side dissipated any semblance of annoyance he could muster. It flared once more when he glanced to the clock, and he pulled the same face, as if Michael could see it more clearly now. He was five minutes early.

His hands reached for the white jacket kept on the back of his chair, and he shrugged it on over his shirt. The irritating tag at the back of his neck made him wish for something softer, something older, something blue, but he pushed the thought away as he snagged his backpack and galloped down the stairs.

Michael was waiting in front of his house with the passenger-side window rolled down expectantly. When his eyes fell onto Jeremy they lit up, and he grinned as the lankier boy swung into the seat with practiced ease. “Whoooo’s the best?” he sang, wiggling a cereal bar in Jeremy’s face.

Jeremy raised his eyebrows at the offering, buckling himself in before accepting it cautiously. “What the hell, dude, you’re spoiling the shit out of me!” A Cinnamon Toast Crunch bar, right in his hands? He side-eyed the taller boy, who waggled his eyebrows. “Okay, out with it, who died?” he insisted, poking at his sides.

Michael laughed a little bit at his assault, batting away the assault with a single hand. “ _ What?  _ Maybe I just wanna spoil you for funsies, huh?” His eyes glittered with goodwill, crinkling up with a childish delight.

Michael’s eyes - they’d always been the same. Always.

 

_ The playground was always a flurry of activity. Screaming, running, the pounding of footsteps on wood chips and metal equipment as kindergarteners struggled to expel a day’s energy in a small sliver of time. Out in the distance, if he really listened, he could hear some other kids playing kickball, or whatever. _

_ Here, though, tucked away beneath the dinkiest slide, it was quiet, and cool, and still. He didn’t have to worry about the assault of a stray ball or the pressure of a sudden game of tag or the loneliness of having no other playmates. This was the perfect fortress of solitude. His own little den. A pocket away from everyone else. _

_ The perfect place to play Pokemon without getting noticed. _

_ Jeremy had gotten remarkably good at sneaking his Game Boy into his pocket without anyone catching him. Sure, whenever he walked, he held it tightly clutched in one hand as if it might disappear the second he released it, but it wasn’t as though his hands weren’t already in his pockets anyways. _

_ He honestly wasn’t sure if he was allowed to even have the handheld out here with him, but he wasn’t taking any chances. It was only now, so far away from the teacher’s gaze, that he dared to raise the volume somewhere above the shrieking of his peers. A smile worked its way onto his lips as the distinctive soundfont rang out, and he got back to leveling up his team. _

_ Against his back, he felt the impact of someone flying down the slide, and he made the briefest of faces. But it was at least easy enough to ignore. In fact, he heard whoever had intruded on his sanctuary already stepping away from the slide, probably off to the field, gone to play with anyone else who- _

_ “Is that Pokemon??” _

_ Jeremy’s head snapped up and made hard contact with the metal slide above him, and he curled into himself with a faint groan. Rubbing the back of his head, he peered up at the stranger, who at least had the decency to look a little startled, himself. _

_ He had been hiding in the shade for ages, but when he looked up into that expression, it was as if he stepped into the sun again. His eyes, dark and rich, glittered in the sunlight, though they were half hidden behind the glare of round glasses and locks of messy brown hair. After a beat of tension, the excitement quickly seeped into his features again, and the face-splitting grin grew back across his features. _

_ Jeremy had never seen someone so  _ bright  _ before. _

_ He squinted up at him, mind racing. “Wh-What?” he stammered, trying to remember what he’d just been asked. _

_ Thankfully, the other kid crouched down beside him, pointing to his blue Game Boy with an arm loaded with colorful bands. “Your game! That’s Pokemon!” he said again, raising his eyebrows. “Right?” _

_ “Oh. U-Uh.” Jeremy turned the music on the system down, fiddling with the shoulder buttons, snapping the two halves shut and opening them again, rubbing his stickers along the back. “Uh, yeah, it’s- Y… You know Pokemon?” he asked suddenly, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. Everyone else just thought Pokemon was dumb, but this kid knew it - wait, how had he even known he was playing? Was it the music? _

_ “Uhhh, duh!” He struggled with one of the bands on his wrist, wiggling it out from all of the others and practically shoving it in Jeremy’s face. It was printed with Pokeballs. His eyes widened. “That’s one of the new ones, right? Oh, oh, which one? Ruby or Sapphire?” _

_ “Uh- It’s. It’s S-Sapphire.” He tilted the handheld back to tap on the blue game cartridge, and the other boy grinned wider, taking it upon himself to slide into place beside him. _

_ “I’ve got Ruby!” he pronounced proudly, jerking a thumb towards himself. “‘Cuz I like the color red!” _

_ “Oh… well, I, I like, blue, so.” Jeremy shifted uncertainly, eyes flickering between his screen and this boy, torn between excitement and utter terror. They felt similarly uncomfortable in his stomach, and he had to resist the temptation to scoot away. “Which- Which starter did you pick?” _

_ “Torchic! It’s the best one,” the other boy explained, nodding solemnly. He pouted as Jeremy regarded him with disgust. _

_ “Whaat… Mudkip is  _ way  _ c-cooler than a chicken,” he protested, earning a sharp gasp. _

_ “What!!! Torchic is the  _ coolest _! It can like, when it evolves, you know, it-” He made punching and kicking motions at the empty air, making sound effects with his mouth. “It’s so cool!!” _

_ “Well when  _ Mudkip  _ evolves it can, it can like, it-” Jeremy mimicked him, holding out one hand in front of him and making a sound like rushing water. _

_ The boy pouted at him again, but his eyes still held the same sparkle. Suddenly, he brightened, and the lightbulb was nearly tangible above his head. “Well, you can just be my rival, then!” he exclaimed, the grin somehow ever brighter, the joy spilling into his flapping hands. _

_ Jeremy’s eyes widened at this compromise, a smile finally starting to spread across his face, too. “Y-Yeah! We can be rivals!” Just like a real Pokemon adventure! _

_ The excitement suddenly drained from his face as a thought occurred to him, and the other boy’s expression shifted, too. _

_ “Wait, how many gym badges do you have??” he suddenly demanded, looking back up to the screen to pull up his trainer card. _

_ The other’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “Five,” he pronounced confidently, his grin returning as Jeremy gasped sharply at him. _

_ “Whaat!” He made a sound like a whine as he looked down to his measly three before looking back to his new companion with newfound determination. “No way am I letting you beat me already! W-We just became rivals! I’m gonna play more.” He immediately turned back to the game, and the other boy leaned in to watch eagerly. He didn’t hesitate in offering his unsolicited advice, and always met Jeremy’s whines with the same grin, laugh, and twinkling eyes. _

 

It was the same look that Michael had on his face now. Eyes screwed up with his smile, a mischievous tilt to his mouth. But there was another similarity there, too, to back then. Now, Jeremy could identify it almost instantly in the way his eyebrows moved, in the vaguely forced quality of his expression.

Anxiety. Worry. Stress.

He’d made it look so easy, back then, but Jeremy knew Michael might as well have plunged himself into the deep end of a pool without a float. But what did he have to be nervous about, now?

_ You have a brain. Use it for two seconds. _

Right.

Despite the peace offerings, he could still feel the tension. Jeremy could always feel the tension. It was in the way that Michael’s fingers moved around him, in the way that he carried himself around him, in the way his eyes lingered on him for too long. It was just at the edges of their interactions, and if he unfocused enough, let things fade just a little, he could pretend it wasn’t there. He could act as though things were just as they were before.

Jeremy narrowed his eyes pointedly at him, made a show of opening his breakfast. Let the edges blur.

“Mmmoookay, but I’ve got my eye on you,” he said, taking great lengths at maintaining his expression even as he took a bite of the cereal bar. 

Michael smiled at him, sticking his tongue out nearly imperceptibly between his teeth, and moved to turn up the music again. His fingers stopped just shy of the dial.

“Sorry, by the way,” he said instead, bringing Jeremy’s eyes back to his face.

His stomach dropped when he realized the smile was gone. Things were brought back into focus. He hummed a question around a mouthful of cereal.

“I didn’t realize that, uh. That your schedule was different now. Sorry I woke you up.” He shrugged a little, fingers moving properly to turn up whatever mix he’d been listening to before.

“Oh.” Jeremy swallowed, took another bite without thinking, and then shrugged. “Don’t worry about it,” he said over the soft 80s rock, flicking away a crumb that had escaped his mouth.

 

_ Despite the hesitant beginnings, the two of them quickly became inseparable. Michael was his rival’s name, he learned, and he was really, stupidly good at this game. _

_ He took to bringing his own Game Boy, and the two of them would play side-by-side in the solitude of their little base, squabbling over which team would win in a fight or who would beat the champion first or which Pokemon were the best. _

_ (As it would turn out, Michael was usually the winner. He beat the champion a full week before Jeremy did, and refused to let him forget it for weeks.) _

_ It soon bled beyond that, though, as they talked about other things. Jeremy had never known that talking to someone could be so interesting and fun. Michael knew about all sorts of things - fun facts about Pokemon and other video games and cool animals and movies and cartoons. Recess wasn’t enough to contain them anymore, but it was mostly what they got, since they weren’t in the same class. _

_ (Of course, he babbled to his parents about this thrilling new discovery. His father offered to have Michael over sometime, if Jeremy wanted. His mother mostly just seeme glad that he had managed to find  _ somebody  _ to play with.) _

_ If they managed to pass each other during the day, they’d shove notes at each other in sloppy, childish handwriting. Pages upon pages of stick figures constantly at war with one another. Crude sketches of Pokemon, exaggerated caricatures of each other. The deep musings only children can share. _

_ “Do you think the glue actually tastes good, though?” _

_ “It’s mostly just gross and sticky.” _

_ “Did you actually eat it???” _

_ “Uhhh did you NOT eat any?” _

_ “NO cuz I’m not weird!” _

_ On another day: “You were right. It is sticky.” _

_ Sometimes they swapped out video games for games of pretend, yelling nonsense magic spells at each other or shooting fake guns or commanding invisible creatures. They’d chase one another across the field, far enough removed from everyone else that their bubble remained unpopped, until one of them inevitably tripped or ran out of breath and they ended up laughing together on the ground. _

_ Michael could always tug a giggle from his lips, always knew how to get him interested in something, could find the most descriptive ways to describe the most mundane of things. Even after running and falling, even with their lungs burning, the air between them was buzzing with something. Laughter. Chatter. Excitement. Contentment.  _

 

The car was utterly still and silent aside from the tunes from the radio.

From the corner of Jeremy’s eye, he could see Michael tapping to the beat on his steering wheel. He made out his nearly inaudible humming.

At another time, Jeremy might have drummed exaggeratedly on the dashboard, Michael might have shimmied his shoulders in a way far too wide motion for a driver, the two of them might have belted out the chorus in almost the right key as loud as they could. Jeremy might also have reached over and snagged control of the radio, Michael might have groaned in disdain at his choice of trashy pop, and the two of them would end in fits of laughter after Jeremy’s ridiculous concert.

Jeremy felt the melody at the back of his throat, felt his fingers twitch to do something, felt the urge to strike up a conversation rise in his chest.

He looked back out the window. He rubbed the cuff of his jacket between his fingers.

He didn’t say anything.

“Don’t you  _ fucking  _ do it.” Michael’s words cut through his thoughts, and Jeremy’s eyes went to him sharply. His fingers bunched in his sleeves, and he wondered what impulse he could’ve been unknowingly acting upon. 

But Michael wasn’t looking at him. He was scowling at a car in front of him, one that was slowing in the parking lot. What could he- oh. Before he could open his mouth to make a quip, the other car continued, and Michael let out a heavy sigh.

“Thank  _ God  _ I don’t have to key somebody’s car today,” he said, slipping into his usual parking spot. It was somewhat unconventional - a little further than most other people cared to walk - but it meant that his parking spot was undisturbed. Usually.

“You think it was some dumb sophomore who doesn’t know the rules yet?” Jeremy ventured as he unbuckled and Michael cut the car off. To his relief, the smile returned.

“Did you see the monogram on the back window, dude? Totally some sophomore who thinks they’re slick.” Michael twirled his keys around his finger as he reached into the backseat to drag out his backpack with the other hand. As he twisted back around, his eyes fell upon Jeremy once more. “... You good?” There was a gentleness there that surprised and confused him in equal measure.

He wanted to raise his eyebrows, cock his head to the side, frown a little.

Instead, he blinked and smiled.  _ Charming. _ “Yeah. You?”

Michael nodded at him, curt, and offered a smile of his own. His eyes didn’t crinkle as much as they should have. “Yeah, now that Betty’s in her rightful place,” he said, patting the steering wheel fondly. “C’mon.” And with that, he swung out of the car, and Jeremy was stuck looking at the space where he used to be for a moment. 

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He got out of the car.

Thankfully, on the walk to the school itself, they both remembered the art of small talk. Complaints about homework that should’ve been done the night before, but was now left for the other classes of the day. Projects that had to be presented at the end of the week. The weather.

They kept it up until their first classes led them in separate directions.

“See you at lunch?” Jeremy asked, a smile ghosting his lips, one that Michael returned with ten times the brightness.

“You bet,” he said with a nod. And then his headphones were on, his hood was up, his hands were in his pockets, and Michael dimmed so that no one would see him. He slipped, unseen, through the throng of students, but Jeremy could pick out the red of his jacket until he turned the corner.

Some of the tension in his chest faded. Things got blurrier. As he recognized that, it came back with twice the force, and they sharpened even more than before.

He pushed the feeling away. He tugged his jacket sleeves down.

He went to class and tried not to think about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're interested in updates, I plan on posting about them on my [artblog](http://starsketch.tumblr.com/)! I'm thinking about doing chapter covers too (like [this!](http://starsketch.tumblr.com/post/164110153600/hi-im-writing-a-fic-its-called-patchwork-its)), so uh, stay tuned I guess
> 
> thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks very much for the kind words on the first chapter of the fic! geez yall are sweet. hope you enjoy this one too!

As it had a tendency to do, time passed. Fall turned into winter turned into second semester turned into March. Despite the havoc inflicted onto a small portion of the student body, despite the tremors that had toppled what he had come to see as the foundations of everything he knew, despite the fact that it felt as though the rubble had been cast over his head, time passed. The dust eventually settled. Things calmed again.

But Michael Mell wasn’t blind. Well, maybe he had a case of legal blindness, hence the glasses - but even _without_ the glasses, he certainly wasn’t _stupid._ Certainly not so stupid as to believe that things had gone back to normal.

Sure, obliquely, he supposed they were. He and Jeremy were friends again, because Jeremy had apologized within a week of being discharged from the hospital. Jeremy looked at him and smiled at him and joked with him again, and their inside jokes resurfaced within a day. Jeremy fell back into his old habits like clockwork, and had been wearing the same jacket since the end of the incident.

But that didn’t change the fact that during his apology, Jeremy hadn’t stuttered once, or gestured with his hands, or slouched for even a moment. That didn’t change the fact that Jeremy’s smiles didn’t meet his eyes in quite the same way, that he didn’t laugh. That didn’t change the fact that the jacket was grey and white and stylish, and not a soft, blue, worn cardigan.

Things were the same, but crooked, and not normal. Things now were padded with an air of discomfort, a layer of things left unsaid.

No, Michael wasn’t stupid. Not stupid enough to believe that things could ever be the old normal ever again.

Nursing his slushie between his hands, he surveyed the rest of the lunch table from beneath his hood. Chloe and Brooke, talking about something that he couldn’t quite make out from beneath the rest of the noise. Brooke leaned against Chloe, and Chloe somehow managed to eat in a way that left her lipstick completely untouched, because she was a popular girl and popular girls were capable of the highest forms of witchcraft.

Rich and Jake, laughing obnoxiously over a joke that one of them told. Rich leaned on the back of Jake’s wheelchair, grinning against his ear, and Jake looked up at him and smiled with what might have been the sappiest look Michael had ever seen.

Jenna, waving her hands a little bit as she recounted a story to Christine. Her eyes were wide and bright, and he could hear the energy in her voice, despite not caring anything about the words. Christine, nodding along to what Jenna said, occasionally interjecting her own comments. She laughed when appropriate, and her bursts of energy easily overtook anything else in the room without even trying. If he hadn’t been purposefully tuning everything out, he could’ve made out her every word.

Jeremy.

Jeremy, sitting next to him, picking at his food, eyes flickering around as he managed to pick up bits and pieces of each conversation. When appropriate, he occasionally interjected, made easy conversation, earned a laugh. Occasionally, he looked over to Michael with a concerned tilt to his eyebrows, a small smile on his face. Every time, Michael simply raised his eyebrows and looked away, taking a sip of his cherry slush.

Jeremy, holding his hands still on the table, Jeremy, who did not stammer as he jumped into a conversation, Jeremy, who was sitting up straight, Jeremy, who looked so strange in white.

Michael wondered if anyone else noticed, or if they cared. He wondered if they could really do either of these things, because really, how could they?

How could they know the way that Jeremy’s eyes were supposed to fold and crinkle when he smiled, or the way that his hands were endlessly moving, or the way that the words caught in his mouth even when he was certain of them?

This was the Jeremy they knew. Still. Compressed. _Cool._

He’d never known this Jeremy.

 

_It took a year for Jeremy to agree to spend the night over at his house, because he always managed to find an excuse not to. Averted eyes and stammered apologies hushed by reassurances and wide grins. Halfway through first grade, though, he turned to Michael with what looked like incredible summoned courage._

_“I… I think... do, do you wanna have a s-sleepover on Friday?” he finally managed, fumbling the words as he always did._

_Michael lit up like a lamp at the suggestion. “DO I?” he shouted, leaning over the table and far too close to Jeremy’s face, though the other boy didn’t seem to mind. “Uh, yes?? You can come over to my house and we can play Pokemon - I have Pokemon Stadium on the ‘tendo 64 and lots of other games, too, that we can play, like Goldeneye and Mario 64, even though Mario’s just one player, so maybe not that one - and my mom can get us pizza and we can stay up real late and tell each other scary stories and-”_

_The words flowed out of him, endlessly, rushing out and onto the other boy. A lot of other kids shied away from him when he did this. They wrinkled their noses and looked confused or talked over him to try and drown him out or just left without acknowledging the fact that he wasn’t done. Whenever that happened, he shrank. The words dried up inside of him, shriveled, and it was hard to will himself to say anything else._

_But Jeremy was never like that._

_When he spoke to Jeremy, Jeremy’s eyes brightened. And it was always different, because his eyes were always a different color. Sometimes they were summer days, the blue of the sky, and sometimes they were chimney smoke, a warm gray. But regardless of the color they reflected, they always widened in wonder or horror or excitement, as appropriate, and that always spurred Michael to keep going._

_He could talk to Jeremy forever, he thought, if he really tried, and it wouldn’t even be that hard._

_So when Jeremy’s dad drove them both to Michael’s house, of course he was kicking his feet and telling Jeremy in detail about all of the games he had for all of the systems he could think of. Of course he was telling him about the games they could play in his backyard. Of course he was telling him all about how excited he was to actually have him over for the night, so that their adventures didn’t have to end when Jeremy’s parents came up to pick him up._

_And they did as promised. Mr. Heere ruffled Jeremy’s hair and told him to call if he needed anything at all, and they were herded into the house._

_(“Hi, M-M-Mrs., Mrs. M-Mell!”)_

_They played video games._

_(“You cheater!”_

_“Just ‘cuz I’m better than you doesn’t mean I cheat, you big baby!”)_

_They ate pizza._

_(“D… Do you really eat your pizza w-with mushrooms??”_

_“Yeah! It’s good!”_

_“You, you are so_ weird _.”)_

_They stayed up late._

_But not for the reason that he expected._

_Michael got tired earlier than he had hoped, exhausted from yelling and running and celebrating countless victories, but he was still hunched over a book in bed, flipping through it, looking for something. A story to tell, something interesting, something fun. Jeremy told him that he didn’t like scary stories, but he was considering finding one, anyways, just to toughen him up a little bit. Not too scary. Just scary enough._

_When he found one that was to his liking, he looked up with a broad grin over to Jeremy, who was on the inflatable mattress on the floor._

_Jeremy, who was chewing his fingernails, Jeremy, whose eyebrows were knit together in anxiety, Jeremy, who was curled in on himself, blonde hair in his face, knees clutched tightly to his chest._

_Michael’s grin dropped. The words died on his lips._

_“Jeremy?”_

_Jeremy jerked and looked up at him, the fingers not leaving his mouth as he whirled to meet his eyes. “H-Huh?”_

_“What’s the matter?”_

_His eyes cut away. Jeremy looked to Michael’s bed, to the wall, to the floor. “Um. It’s, It’s nothing.”_

_“Jeereemyyyyyy.” Michael closed and abandoned the book, crawling off of his bed and plopping down next to his friend on the floor. The mattress bounced with his new weight, and Jeremy pinwheeled to keep himself upright. When he straightened again, Michael poked his cheek. “What’s wrooooooooong.”_

_Again, he wouldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s. I-It’s b-baby stuff, Michael.”_

_Michael pushed his bottom lip out in a pout, not liking the wobbliness of Jeremy’s voice. It was always there, ever present, but especially so when he was sad, or nervous, or upset. And he shouldn’t feel any of those things around Michael. Not ever._

_“Nuh-uh.”_

_“Yeah-huh.”_

_“Nuh-_ uh. _” Michael started to poke him gently in the ribs, and Jeremy started to swat away as the giggles built up from his throat._

_“St-Stop!” Jeremy protested, struggling to keep him at bay, but Michael persisted with a growing smile._

_“Not ‘till you tell me what’s wroooong!”_

_“Okay, okay! I, I-I’m just, uh, I’m.” Jeremy settled back, catching his breath, and let out a heavy sigh. “I’m... I’m scared,” he admitted, bringing his already chewed fingertips back to his mouth._

_Michael cocked his head to one side, not understanding. “‘Bout what? The scary story? Aw, man, if it’s bothering you that much, I don’t have t-”_

_“N-No! Not. Not the story.” Jeremy started to fidget with the bottom of his shirt now, instead. “I’ve… I’ve never, um, slept anywhere b-but home. So.”_

_“Oh.” Michael paused again, trying to understand. “Why’s that scary?”_

_This was the wrong question, or maybe his tone was off, because tears of frustration started to poke out around the corners of Jeremy’s eyes. “I-I don’t, I don’t know! I, I know that it’s, it’s d-dumb, it’s dumb, but, but I just, it makes me…” He couldn’t find the right words to use, and he clutched helplessly at his chest._

_“No, no, it’s okay!” Scrabbling to fix the situation, Michael set his hands on Jeremy’s shoulders. “It’s okay! D’you wanna call your dad, or something, and he can just take you h-”_

_“No!” Jeremy’s head snapped up again, and Michael jerked back. “N-No! I told you, I said, I s-said we’d do a sleepover, so, but, I…” He floundered again, and looked back down, and Michael was left twisting his own hands in his lap, uncertain of how to proceed._

_After a few moments, he brightened at his own idea._

_“What if… What if we made it even cooler than your house?”_

_Jeremy sniffled and wiped his face a little, looking up in confusion. “What do you…?”_

_“Leeeet’s make… a pillow fort!!” Michael proclaimed, bouncing suddenly to his feet and sending Jeremy wobbling on the air mattress once more. He held his fingers up in front of him and spun, a plan formulating. “If we move your bed a little further out and I go get pillows ‘n stuff from the couch and we get a buncha blankets we can make like, a real cool fort! And that’ll be super cool to sleep in and you don’t have to worry about not bein’ home because it’ll be even cooler than your house!!”_

_Jeremy stared at him, slowly catching up. And as soon as he did, the look of fear passed from his face, replaced instead by a wide grin. “O… Okay! That sounds fun!”_

_For the next half hour, the two of them worked tirelessly - of course, assisted by both of Michael’s parents. They pushed chairs up and pinned blankets down and made the biggest pile of pillows that they could find, and they hung down a blanket door so that they could deny his parents entry in because it was their big cool pillow castle and adults weren’t allowed inside._

_And there, in the dark and the softness and warmth of their sanctuary, it was easy to feel safe. It was easy to calm Jeremy down again, even when he started to breathe funny and when he shaked and when he cried a bit. It was easy for the two of them to fall asleep together, and to sleep soundly through the night._

 

Michael tugged his hood down a bit further and shoved sushi in his face.

He didn’t know this Jeremy. He didn’t know how to deal with still hands and unmoving faces, and he didn’t know if he wanted to learn.

“Hey.” A hand rested gently on his arm, and Michael glanced to it, then up to the concerned face peering over to him. Jeremy gave him the barest hint of a smile and gestured beyond the table, to the courtyard outside the lunch room. _Outside?_ he asked without words, and Michael studied him.

He didn’t know this Jeremy, but he guessed Jeremy still knew him.

With a curt nod, Michael ate his last California roll quickly and gathered his trash in his 7/11 bag. Beside him, Jeremy pushed one last bite of whatever the hell was passing for school food into his mouth before saying something quietly to Christine on his other side.

When Michael stood, he felt eyes on him. It was tempting to ignore them, but despite his better judgement, he glanced up to the table.

Brooke and Christine didn’t break from their conversations, but both of them smiled to him wordlessly and gave little waves. Chloe glanced to him and nodded a little; Jenna was so wrapped up in what she was saying she hardly seemed to notice him at all. Rich grinned at him and called, “Catch you later, Mike!” because he had no idea how to be subtle about anything, ever, in his life, but it at least prompted Jake to grin at him.

Still, it was relieving when Jeremy pulled on his backpack - the red one, the one he’d picked out with Michael years ago - and walked with him first to the trash disposal and then out the doors.

(He ignored how most of the food on Jeremy’s tray had been completely untouched.)

When they sat down at one of the tables in the sunlight, he couldn’t help but let out a heavy sigh, immediately more comfortable. The courtyard was always less crowded, full of less chatter, less yelling, less humming of air conditioning, less artificial light. Jeremy slid into place on the bench next to him, and he felt his gaze as he took another drink from his slushie.

“Are you okay?” he asked after a beat of silence. His head tilted a fraction of an inch, and it was odd how such a small ghost of familiarity could be so relieving.

Michael took a moment to answer, working the taste of cherry around in his mouth for a few moments, instead. There were a lot of things he could say to that, really, but he chose the easiest lie. “Yeah. Just, like… one of those days.” He’d tried to make it _not_ one of those days, had tried _really, really hard._ Had been planning the entire week to make this a good day, to make this the day that things started to fall back into place again.

He would call Jeremy and pick him up and they would goof around in the car and each have good days at school and then he would invite Jeremy to go pick up lunch with him and maybe Jeremy could spend the night at his house and it would be just like before. They could drop this act.

But the car had been so, so quiet. The silence still pounded in the back of his mind. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince himself that it _was_ or _wasn’t_ his fault, so both possibilities just kept chasing each other around in his head until he found himself exhausted. It was so hard to decide what he was angry at.

When that had fallen apart, so too had everything else.

“I just… I dunno. Forget it.”

“No, come on, man.” Jeremy reached out and touched him again, frowned slightly at him. “You can talk about it. What’s wrong?”

Ah, again with the dozen answers. Jeremy really knew how to ask it. Michael’s leg started to bounce, and he settled on one of the dozens of elephants in the room. But there had to be a way to make this sound softer than his thoughts made it feel. “Just, like… some days I can really feel it. How I don’t belong at that table.”

The frown tugged lower on Jeremy’s lips. “What? Of course you do.”

“I’m not friends with any of them, Jer.”

“You’re friends with Christine.” Well. That was true. Every weekend, he and Christine got together to do something stupid. She said it was an exercise in making him more spontaneous, and he said it was an exercise in making her more structured, and… as a whole, it was pretty effective. He always looked forward to that day.

“That’s not the same, though,” he argued, knitting his eyebrows together. He slid the slushie thoughtlessly across the table, and Jeremy took a sip of it without a word. “Like, Chris wasn’t… friends with them before, either. She just knows how to make friends. I don’t.”

“You could.” Michael gripped the slushie as it was passed back to him and studied it instead of looking at Jeremy again. “They’d all love to get to know you, Michael, just-”

“Well, what if I don’t want to be friends with them?” he snapped suddenly, and he saw Jeremy’s hands clench a little on the table. A beat.

“What?”

Michael sighed heavily, scratching violently through his hair. “Just, like- Christ, dude, they treat us like shit for years, and suddenly we’re all buddy-buddy? As if it never happened?”

“I... really, I get it, man, but they really are good guys, once you get to know them.” That defensive edge was creeping into Jeremy’s voice again, and he was going a little higher pitched, and Michael knew that meant he should step off. But he didn’t.

“Yeah, well, it’s not as easy for all of us to just forgive and forget.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue, and he regretted them the second that they escaped, but there was nothing he could do about it.

After a beat of silence, he finally looked up to Jeremy again, but Jeremy wasn’t looking at him. He was looking a bit to the side, and his eyes were partially obscured, but he stared at them intently to get a read.

Jeremy’s eyes - they were always changing. Always.

 

_“It’ll look like a star, but it’ll move in an arc across the sky instead, like this,” Mr. Heere said, drawing an arc through the air with his free hand. The other hand held Jeremy’s, and Jeremy’s other hand held Michael’s, and the two of them watched him with wide eyes._

_“S-So, like, like a shhh-shooting star?” Jeremy asked, earning a nod._

_“Correct! Ten points!” he cheered, earning a giggle from his son. “But, it’s a lot slower, so you’ll get plenty chance to see it.”_

_“Right! ‘Cuz shooting stars are like-” Michael bounced forward and swung his arm wildly through the air, making a dramatic whooshing sound as he did. Mr. Heere laughed again and nodded as they stepped out of the parking lot._

_“Yep, just like that! But this’ll be slower, and not for…” He checked his watch and hummed softly. “Not for another twenty minutes. So you two are free to run around until then, but don’t go too far!”_

_The two had already peeled away as soon as they hit the grass of the park, and Michael and Jeremy nearly crashed into each other in a flurry of giggles and laughter._

_At first, Michael simply chased Jeremy around and marveled at the other’s somewhat ridiculous speed. If he was given a head start, he could easily make headway and keep it for what felt like forever, until he inevitably tripped and landed on his face and Michael had to make sure he didn’t cry._

_When Jeremy stopped and Michael nearly crashed into him, he thought maybe he’d tripped or something similar, but instead he was staring at something with an intensity he rarely saw from the other boy._

_“What?” Michael said with a frown, but received no response._

_After a moment, Jeremy let out a soft ‘ah!’ and pointed to a flash of light in the air. “Blinky!” He looked back to Michael with a big smile._

_Michael was staring at him as though he’d grown a second head._

_His smile dropped. “What?”_

_“_ Blinky _?” Michael said, not understanding, and Jeremy cocked his head to the side._

_“Y-Yeah? Blinkies, you know, the, they light up, like. Like that!” He pointed to another one a little further away, and finally, a grin split Michael’s face._

_“Uh, you mean lightnin’ bugs??” he said, earning a look of betrayal from his best friend._

_“What? No!! They’re blinkies, cuz, cuz they blink!”_

_Michael laughed at him a little, ignoring Jeremy’s smack to his arm, and instead ran off suddenly. He ignored Jeremy’s call to his back, instead letting his eyes dart around restlessly. When his eyes settled on a dot of light, he grinned and tracked it carefully, spreading his hands wide. He brought them together, forming a cage around the small creature. He felt the small legs tickling the palms of his hands even as he sprinted back over to a confused Jeremy._

_“Look!” he said, shoving his closed hands in his face. After a moment, he spread his hands open, and Jeremy’s eyes widened in awe at his prize._

_“You, you caught one?” he whispered, as if his voice might scare it away - and then the bug did fly away, and Jeremy watched it go with utter enchantment. Within a fraction of a second, he turned back onto Michael with the widest smile he’d ever seen. “Show me!!”_

_They went about it for a while, seeing how many they could gather in their small hands at a time, being extraordinarily gentle with them. One of them landed on Jeremy’s face and he nearly shrieked at the foreign contact, but he was laughing by the time it flew away._

_“Boys! Come here, you can see the station!”_

_And so they were pulled from their world for a moment, to stand next to Mr. Heere as he pointed out the bright pinpoint of light slowly tracking across the sky. Both of them gawked up at it, but Michael’s attention was promptly diverted by the much bigger, much brighter moon. It was full and shining, and his smile stretched wider at the sight of it, and he went to tell Jeremy - but stopped short._

_Jeremy’s skin was pale and practically glowing in the moonlight, and his eyes sparkled with wonder. And Michael thought he was just as pretty as the moon, then, and thought about saying so, but it would be rude to interrupt him while he was looking at the stars like that. Because he had that expression that meant he didn’t want to be distracted._

_But then he looked back to Michael, and his eyes were the color of the stars themselves. “Isn’t that c-cool?!” he said, voice hushed, and Michael grinned wider with an enthusiastic nod._

_Even after the station disappeared from view, Mr. Heere continued to point out constellations to them, told them the names of stars, explained how some were planets, promised to take them out here with his star chart and telescope sometime soon. His words and the singing of crickets and frogs wrapped around Michael warmly, and his hand found Jeremy’s again, just to have something to hold onto._

_All the way home, Jeremy was slapping his legs and babbling, about how cool it was there were so many stars, about how cool the stories of some of the constellations must be, about how him and Michael should definitely build a rocket ship and go visit all of them. And he said all of his with that same glitter in his eye._

 

When he finally looked back to him, Jeremy’s eyes were cool, inflexible gray. Michael couldn’t glean anything from them.

“Well,” he started softly - and that was where Michael could tell, where he could hear the faintest tremor. Jeremy was trying to keep his voice perfectly even, as if Michael hadn’t just stabbed him where it hurt, but he was failing. And, damn him, the blade was double-edged. “Well, if you can… if somehow, you change your mind, I. I don’t think you’ll regret it.”

His gaze cut away again, and he started to go on about how sure Chloe was uh, Chloe, but she tried, and Brooke was really very sweet,

( _“Ugh, what a lowlife,” she muttered, making her way around Michael, who was struggling to pick up papers that had somehow fluttered out of his binder. Her heels clacked against the floor, against his notes, and she left a footprint on one of them._

_The other footsteps were softer in her wake, and there was the shuffling of papers as they were pushed a bit closer to him. He looked up to the smallest of smiles, almost apologetic. As quickly as she came, she hurried after the other, the barest of an echo in comparison._

_He couldn’t help but think she might even be nice, if she didn’t have to pretend so much.)_

and Rich was really nice and encouraging without his squip and Jake was actually very supportive and,

_(“Outta my way, fag!” he shouted, and there was a crash as Michael was forced up against a locker. He huffed a little to regain his breath, braced for any further impact, but the pounding footsteps continued away from him, down the hall._

_“Yo, Jakey D!” The loud slap of a high-five and laughter, the recounting of a story that faded in with the babblings of the rest of the student body. The previous transgression went unnoticed - or perhaps, it just didn’t matter._

_He couldn’t help but wonder what made it more acceptable when they hung off of one another like that.)_

and Jenna got really passionate about documentaries and stuff,

_(“I heard that weird headphones kid in your English class actually spent the night in a 7/11 once,” she said with a laugh._

_He barely spared her a glance as he walked by. The other person she was talking to didn’t seem particularly interested, either._

_He couldn’t help but think that they’d listen more if she acted as anything more than an echo.)_

and, well, of course he already knew Christine,

_(“God, I passed Christine in the hall today, and I. I nearly tripped directly into her, dude.”_

_His voice had that ridiculously smitten edge to it, and his eyes were somewhere off in the distance. Whatever was said next, he admittedly tuned out, because what hadn’t he heard before?_

_He couldn’t help but wonder if he would ever realize he was in love with a projection.)_

and he went on until he faded off, his words abandoning him. The silence wedged its way between the two of them and settled uncomfortably. Michael, out of slushie, chewed on the straw.

“We don’t have to sit there if it makes you uncomfortable,” Jeremy finally said, his voice so small and quiet that it might have disappeared into the air.

Michael tore his eyes away from Jeremy’s clenched fists. “What? No, man, listen, it’s… They’re your friends, it’s whatever. I’ll deal.”

Jeremy looked back to him again, and for the first time in what was probably months, Michael felt like he could read his eyes.

They were wordlessly sad, and tired.

“So are you.”

Michael stared at him. _Am I?_ was on the tip of his tongue.

And he hated that. He hated this sour fucking mood that he was in. He hated this endless expanse that had somehow opened between the two of them, the one that neither of them quite had the tools or the expertise to bridge. He hated that the bandaid they’d slapped over the stab wound was starting to peel off.

The bell rang, shattering his thoughts, and he was so utterly relieved for the easy out that he was nearly ashamed of himself. He swung his backpack over his shoulder.

“See you later, Jer.”

“Wait, Michael-”

But before Jeremy could touch him with his outstretched arm, he had already stepped away. He was already blocking everything else out.

He put his headphones on. He adjusted his hood over his head.

He stepped back into the building and tried not to linger on it.

And he felt Jeremy’s eyes follow him until he disappeared down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out the [chapter cover](http://starsketch.tumblr.com/post/164301568850/a-patchwork-update-about-nighttime-and-change) too if you want!
> 
> thanks for reading!


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